


Ups, Downs

by springsnow



Series: b i g s t r o n g f a m i l y [3]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Comfort, Crying, Discipline, Gen, Mind Games, Non-Sexual Age Play, Stuffed Toys, Temper Tantrums, time outs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-17 17:58:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18970174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springsnow/pseuds/springsnow
Summary: Of temper tantrums, time-outs, and takeaways.





	Ups, Downs

**Author's Note:**

> [SPOILERS FOR THE MAY 22 NXT UK] One day, I shall write a non-angsty fic for this series. But it is not this day. This is just another one about Pete being an emotional wreck. I promise that whatever I write next will give Tyler a bigger role. Set in the aftermath of the May 22 2019 edition of NXT UK, where Aichner and Barthel interrupted to help WALTER defeat Pete. Apologies if they come off as assholes in this; that wasn’t my intention—I genuinely love all three of them and can’t wait to see where they go with Imperium. Enjoy.

All things considered, when Trent found Pete backstage, he was…remarkably sanguine. He’d been expecting a temper tantrum, but instead, Pete was quietly getting changed, neatly folding up his ring gear and towelling his shower-damp hair. He was angry, Trent could tell, but it was a surprisingly quiet sort of anger.

“Alright?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe. Pete looked up and nodded in recognition.

“Alright.”

“How you feeling?”

“Tired.” Pete pulled his t-shirt on and untucked his hair from the back of it. “Could do with something to eat.”

Trent nodded. “Tyler said he’d order food.”

“Sounds good.” Pete grabbed his bag and began heading for the door. “C’mon.”

As Pete stepped out of the changing room, a voice rang out from the end of the corridor. “Running away to sulk, Dunne?”

Trent turned. Standing at the far end of the hallway, leaning against a closed door, was Aichner and Barthel. Out of the corner of his eye, Trent saw Pete square up slightly. He put a gentle yet firm hand on Pete’s shoulder. “Come on. Just ignore them,” he said softly. Aichner laughed.

“Hiding behind someone else? Too scared to stand up for yourself, huh?”

“That’s pretty rich coming from you,” Pete said. His fists were clenched. _Oh, god, here we go_ , Trent thought. “Pair of fucking lap dogs, that’s all you are.”

The shit-eating grins the two of them had been wearing practically dissolved. Barthel began to step forward, opening his mouth to reply, but he was cut off by the door behind them swinging open. Immediately, Pete deflated, and Trent saw him take a step back.

Walter said something in German that Trent didn’t catch, and Aichner and Barthel skulked off. Barthel cast one final look over his shoulder at Pete and Trent, sneering. Walter watched them go, then turned to look at Pete. Trent could tell Pete was nervous, but he was refusing to back down. Walter was in street clothes, and he had the belt over his shoulder.

“Go on,” he said. “Run off with your daddy, _kleiner Junge_.”

A chill ran down Trent’s spine. Walter turned back, closing the door behind him. It was just the two of them in the corridor now. Pete gripped his arm.

“Trent?” _Now_ he was looking scared. “Trent, does he—?”

Trent swallowed thickly. “Probably not.”

“Probably?”

“Listen, Pete, he’s doing this on purpose, alright? He’s trying to mess with your head. Pull you down. You can’t let him get to you.”

“But he said…he called me…” Pete trailed off helplessly, looking back down the corridor. He chewed his lower lip. “Fuck, what if he tells everyone?”

“Even if he knew, he’s smarter than that. If not by much. Now come on. Let’s get back to the hotel.”

Pete was silent on the way to the car. It was a cold night, thin rain falling in a fine mist, and it felt good on Trent’s heated face. It wasn’t until they were safely in the car and pulling out of the car park that Pete finally spoke again.

“I could’ve had it,” he said. “I could’ve fucking had it, but those two—his little fucking _pets_ —”

“I know, bab. You were close,” Trent said reassuringly. He wasn’t just saying it, either; if it hadn’t been for Aichner and Barthel sticking their oars in at the last second, Pete would’ve had a chance. “It’s alright. There’ll be another chance.”

Pete managed to smile a little. “Thanks.”

“Any time.”

“Hey, um…” Pete shifted in his seat. “Do you, uh, do you have Simba with you?”

Trent smiled and reached into the inside pocket of his coat. “As if I’d forget. You want him now, or do you want to wait ’til we get back to the hotel?”

“Now? Please?”

Trent handed the small stuffed lion cub to Pete. He took it gratefully and set it down in his lap, playing with its ears. It would still take him a little while, but Trent could see him already starting to slide comfortably into his headspace. He smiled affectionately. Maybe tonight would turn out alright after all.

==

The food was already waiting for them when they got back, as was a relieved-looking Tyler. He probably wasn’t going to need to go into his own headspace tonight, but he was still keen to help take care of Pete. He hugged them both, ruffling Pete’s hair gently. “You did great out there,” he said. “We’re so proud of you.”

“Thanks, Ty,” Pete replied quietly. Tyler took his hand and led him over to the little table. He’d set Pete’s cup out and filled it with juice. Pete sat down with Simba in his lap. He pushed his noodles around his plate with his chopsticks, biting his lip, looking anxious.

“You alright there, love?” Trent asked, sitting down. Pete looked up at him, his eyes very wide, and Trent suddenly felt a cold wave of dread wash over him. Oh, Christ, was this going to be a repeat of Takeover?

“I lost,” he said softly. Trent sighed.

“I know, but we went over this in the car, didn’t we? You were so close, and—”

“But they—they—” Pete cut himself off, looking down. His shoulders were tensed, and his breath was coming out harsh and ragged. Trent and Tyler exchanged a look. They knew Pete well enough to know that was the sign of a tantrum brewing, and if it was going to be anything like his previous outbursts, it wasn’t going to be pretty.

“Pete, just take a deep breath, alright?” Tyler reached over to gently touch Pete’s hand, but Pete slapped him away. His lower lip was quivering and there were tears in his eyes.

“Leave me alone,” he snapped. 

“Don’t talk to Tyler like that, Pete. It’s rude,” Trent said sternly. “If you’re going to behave like that—”

Before Trent could finish, Pete had grabbed the plate in front of him and hurled it at the wall. It shattered on impact and sent shards of china flying. He stood up fast enough to knock the chair over and flung himself onto the bed, crying hard into the pillow. Simba lay discarded on the floor next to the bed. Trent sighed again and stood up, walking across to the bed and sitting down next to Pete. He laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Pete, look at me,” he said softly. Pete shook his head, still crying.

“Nuh-uh,” he said, voice muffled by the pillow.

“I’m not angry, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Trent reassured him. He stroked Pete’s hair. “But we do need to talk about this.” This had actually been one of his milder tantrums; the really bad ones could last up to twenty minutes and typically involved a lot more screaming, crying, and, in one instance, Pete throwing a drinking glass at the TV (he’d missed, thank god).

Reluctantly, Pete raised his head from the pillow, still sniffling. Trent leaned down to wipe away his tears. “There now,” he cooed. “It’s alright, love. I’m not angry.”

“Is Ty angry?” Pete asked, his voice husky from crying.

“No, I’m not,” Tyler said, sitting down on the other side of Pete and rubbing his shoulder. “Neither of us are angry, so don’t worry about that.”

“’m I in trouble?” Pete sat up.

“I think a time-out might be needed,” Trent said. Pete whined. “None of that, now. Five minutes in the corner. That’s all.”

“Can I take Simba?” Pete asked.

“Of course you can.” Trent handed him his lion and ushered him into the corner, sitting him down gently on the floor. “Five minutes, remember. I’ll be timing it.”

He took his phone out of his pocket and set the timer to five minutes, placing it on the desk next to Pete. Pete sniffled again and hugged Simba tighter to his chest. Trent never liked having to put either of his boys in time-out, but it was less about discipline and more about giving them time to cool off—especially Pete.

He headed back to the table and sat down to finish eating. Tyler had cleaned up the spilled food and broken china already, but there was still a mark on the wall. Hopefully it’d come off cleanly enough; at least there was no major staining on the carpet. The last thing they needed was to be getting in trouble with the hotel management.

The five minutes seemed to crawl by, but by the time they were done, Pete had visibly relaxed. He was humming softly to himself and playing with Simba, and while he still didn’t look all that happy, he was nowhere near as agitated as he had been before. Trent crouched down next to him and brushed the hair from his face.

“Alright, love, it’s done now,” he said. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Pete mumbled. “Daddy?”

“Mm?” Trent was rubbing his back.

“’m hungry.”

“There’s some food left over. I’ll heat it back up for you.”

Pete sat cross-legged on the bed to eat, Simba tucked safely into the crook of his arm and Tyler’s arm around his shoulders. “’m sorry for being bad,” he said softly as he handed Trent his empty plate. Tyler ruffled his hair and kissed him on the cheek.

“It’s OK, Pete. You weren’t bad,” he said softly.

“You just got a little overwhelmed.” Trent sat down on the other side of Pete and gently rubbed his side. “It happens sometimes, and you’re better now, right?”

Pete nodded, sucking on his fingers and leaning into Trent’s touch. His eyelids were already starting to droop.

“Alright,” Trent smiled. “Now I think it’s time for bed.”


End file.
